Fake Paradise
by Juleezy
Summary: Two strangers are having two completely different connections to a mysterious woman, unbeknownst of their part in her plan-her plan to come back and right the wrongs of the ones who have imprisoned her. [AU; Cloud, Tifa, & Zack.]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Yep, it's a rewrite! I had to change some things, and the way I previously wrote it was not working out. Plus, it was just so horribly written and short. Hopefully, the quality got a lot better, and the plot interests a lot of people. By the way, if you're looking for something new and different in the FFVII fandom/archive, please check out my most recent fic, **Strange Anticipation**. I even searched to make sure no one had done it before too, ha. As always, please make sure to review and/or alert. You better do it or else I'll knock on your door and beat you up with Cloud's sword. Just kidding, but please do. :)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy VII. If I did, things would be totally messed up.

**Summary: **She's been imprisoned on some island for who knows how long, but she's coming back. He's been having dreams of a possible previous lifetime that features a blurry-faced girl, but he's going to find her and get some answers. He's a seemingly innocent stranger, but his secretly buried memories are awakening. Why will these three come together, and what must they do? CloudxTifaxZack.

**Fake Paradise**

The sun was shining brightly, as if glowing to it's full extent. There were few leisurely floating clouds that would have otherwise made the skies as clear and blue as the waters beyond the shoreline. Winds and breezes would randomly blow and appear, as if playing hide-and-seek with one another, resulting in puffs of fresh air. Today had wonderful weather, nearly perfect. Just like any other day, she thought with a scowl ruining her pretty face.

She hates it, despises it. It reminded her greatly of the day when she was sent here to be imprisoned, wrongly accused of faulty crimes. She was here on this lonely island, supposedly excluded from the human race, or so they wished to believe and assume. A series of certain past events played through her mind and a quiet giggle escapes her pink lips. The prisoner couldn't understand why she was here. If her so-called crime was so gruesome and cruel, why didn't they just kill her instead? Oh yeah, the whole "torment the evil soul" thing. Her fingers are on her lips, feeling the small smile that graced upon her face. The silly fools probably thought that she was dead, her ashes presumably scattered around and across this seemingly paradisaical island by the the winds and possibly washed away into the ocean waters. Her lips spread wider at the thought of them forgetting her, overlooking the false accusations and framing of her for things she had not committed.

_You are innocent._ Her smile turns genuine.

Being locked away on a stranded island was so cliché she thinks, but the time in this hellhole was not spent wasted. She had a lot of time to think, and so like an opportunist she always was, she thought and thought and thought until she wanted to pull her hair out. Date and time was hard to tell here, having no man-made instrument for indication and precision. She starts to chuckle when thinking of her plan to return and possibly meeting surprised and old, familiar faces. Oh, they would definitely be surprised, whether or not she would be pleased or disgusted to see them. 'The infamous Tifa Lockhart has returned.' That thought leaves her gasping for air, her laughing becoming a bit out of hand. People were and _always_ will be stupid and ridiculous.

But, she's in quite a dilemma. To forgive or avenge? She wonders if she should forgive since the time spent here enabled her to do just so, and was the main purpose of her imprisonment, besides to just "rightly" punish her of course. It allowed her to think of people's thoughts and reasons behind their actions. Suddenly, she recalls herself telling someone, or someone telling her that actions could speak louder than words. Of course, it was natural for old memories to fade and disappear as time elapsed. The woman shakes her head and refocuses on her main thought. Maybe she should forgive since she doesn't want false rumors of her to ring true or to go into a psychotic rampage and gain nothing but blood lust, but patience can run rather thin when you're taken advantage for your nice and generous character. In converse, she asks herself why she can't erase the people who have wronged her, but remembers that she doesn't like removing a life with her own two hands.

The slightly cocky demeanor starts to fade, and the smile disappears when actually questioning the degree of success and how functional the plan that she and another made. It was the same person that helped her endure the many boring and hateful years here, possibly centuries. 'Will it work?' 'Will it fail?' She had asked herself these questions after conceiving the strategy. Things will have to naturally fall into place or else she'll have to get out of her own way to make it work, and she would prefer to not do that. Thank you very much. A soothing and matronly voice goes through her ears. It calms and reassures her that everything will be okay. She sighs for she knows what she must do.

The confined figure lazily strolls onto the shore, the beach. As the winds blow, white sand fly around her pale feet, tickling her bare toes. She walks up to the beautiful ocean waters that she had many contradicting opinions about, due to a pair of blue eyes and a sudden rush of memories and emotions. She's staring lifelessly into the blue waters and sees a reflection, a reflection of herself. Sometimes when she'd forget what she looked like, she'd come here to look and deny that the mirror image given was her. Dark and long locks, piercing red eyes, porcelain skin, and a curvaceous body. It continues to amaze her that she looked the same, despite the time, despite the laws of nature. The woman thinks the picture is pretty, but Tifa Lockhart was no vain creature. She kicks the water in repulsion and disgust.

Her fingers and hands are fidgeting and fiddling with her plain, white dress. 'Why do you do that, you stupid woman?' She knows and doesn't at the same time. She hates tormenting herself but loves to remember how to feel. When she is there, she remembers how to feel love, pain, happiness, and sadness. It reminds her that she is or once _was_ human and not some worthless object carelessly tossed here. Sometimes she wondered what had more advantage, being a human or not being one. She angrily kicks the sand, small particles flying around her, giving the illusion of a trapped fallen angel.

After relieving her stressed mind, she withdraws and bends down, softly patting the sand as if afraid it would throw itself into her eyes. She feels the need to apologize since it had done nothing wrong, like a few people she knew. The brunette stops, feeling silly for apologizing to an inanimate object. Sigh. Maybe things would be better if she didn't execute her comeback. Maybe things wouldn't. She thanks the sand for possibly helping her or confusing her mind even more.

_Don't worry. You know what you must do. _Tifa feels less burdened.

She's on her feet and starts to focus, and golden flecks enter her ruby orbs. The feel of power and strength course through her veins, making her body slightly shiver in pleasure. She's trying to handle and control the familiar strong burst of energy that had been vacant during her long and seemingly almost permanent stay in her "home." Tifa can feel the start and anticipation of the oncoming events. However, things happen, whether she notices or not. The brightly shining sun dimmed. The waves stopped splashing and crashing. The air turned flat. Wildlife hushed to a mere rustle. Life seemed to stop, or at least for a little bit. She's standing very still, and her eyes close. The waves shyly kiss her feet, the wind starts to tangle itself into her long mass of hair, and the sun dimly shines on her figure. She releases a long breath.

Her eyes open, and she cranes her neck up so that her glowing eyes see the unnaturally darkening sky, quickly filling with brightly shining stars. The night, the stars, the promises. It was forever burned into her memories. She laughs at her past naivety and says a silent apology to a certain someone or _someones _for what was about to happen. Her face is still upright, and her eyes start to glow as she says silent words of incantation, her body floating a bit from the ground. Suddenly, she stops with an ungraceful plop onto the sandy surface. That was energy draining, her body feeling dehydrated and empty, but the accompanied adrenaline rush was something she always enjoyed.

The brunette was on her side, chest panting heavily but soon reduced to a regular breathe in, breathe out. She starts laughing and smiling in glee and delight. It had worked! It was imperative for this to succeed, and she had done it, not expecting it to be accomplished because of her lack of practice and faith from previous failed attempts. But, her thoughts wandered to why it had worked. Were the gods finally helping her, taking pity on this poor soul? She's not not so sure, but does a silent prayer in thanks and receives a warm breeze in return, softly caressing her heart-shaped face. The ruby eyed woman had on a smile that could rival the sun's brightly shining inferno.

Tifa slowly yet finally stands up and pats down her attire. "It's finally done."

_A job well-done. Now, we must wait._

That's why you don't mess with an Element. Or shall she dare say, _Elements?_

**O O O**

When you watch those family sitcoms on television, you see those ideal wives welcome their hard-working husbands home with a bright smile, asking them how their day was with a kiss to the cheek. Well, if that were to happen, Cloud Strife would answer and say that it was a mother fucking, ass bitching, shitty day with a set of pearly whites to match his loving wife. He honestly didn't like cursing so much in one sentence because he thought it was unpleasant and distasteful, but the string of words seemed to describe his day perfectly. Almost.

Stupid customers. Stupid customers with their nasty complaints. Stupid customers with their absurd needs. Stupid customers with their fighting words. Stupid customers with their throwing fists. Everything was all _simply_ stupid, stupid, stupid. That seemed to be the word of the day, aside from headache of course. The throbbing pain in his skull was a constant reminder.

To add the icing on the cake, he got fired today, due to the vile remarks and complaints concerning a certain "chocobo-haired freak." He could care less, always thinking and wanting to say, "How about you check out my totally invisible finger?" The boss kept yapping about something and how he had not listened to it. What was that saying again? Oh, the customer's always right; that statement was a load of crap. He was gonna quit anyway; people were never really his specialty. Sure, most of the time spent was on the road, but the rest was needed for excellent customer service. He could say nothing and shove the papers at their faces, which was what he preferred, but some liked to have conversation and insult him. A lot. Was it really his fault that wild savages and people liked to attack him, or certain things were natural and could not change? There were remarks on his hair that supposedly looked like the rear end of a chocobo, a sleek and sexy motorcycle that was claimed and said to be ultimately useless, and creepy looking eyes that scared people out of their panties. He decided that he didn't mind that last one.

Ugh, searing pain. Leather covered fingers went up to rub at his temples. There were so many aching headaches today, concerning people and their foul mouths, constantly and incessantly poking his already frazzled mind. Maybe he should just say 'screw it' and become a misanthrope. He didn't like people, and people didn't like him. It was simply _perfect_. He was always a loner anyway, excluded from others for something he couldn't control, dating all the way back to when he barely knew how to walk and talk properly. What can he say? Old habits die hard.

The lone wolf turned off the engine and parked Fenrir, his beloved motorcycle, in a hidden garage. As everyone said around here, you can never be too safe unless you were mother fucking Shiva. He smiles a bit at the thought, thinking how ironic it was to put a god's name and a curse word together in one sentence. After removing his lean body from his most valuable possession, he examines it, making sure it had not receive the same amount of abuse as he did. The examination said that it needed slight modifications, but the repairs were not going to be made today. Exhaustion was taking a toll on his body.

With a resigned sigh and pat to a certain motor vehicle, he enters his measly home, slamming the door shut and carelessly tossing his keys on some nearby table. His face starts to scrunch up when he feels a throbbing in his cranium; pointer and middle finger immediately come up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The pained figure is honestly surprised that a vein hadn't popped yet, considering all the injustice that had happened today. With a few long strides, he unceremoniously plops onto his worn-out-couch. The back of a glove-covered hand rests against his handsome face, and he exhales roughly. Yep, if he was going to continue to finance himself, he needed a job. Quick. A small part of his mind thinks of an oversized blade, idly sitting in the corner of his room. He can't believe he almost forgot about it, but remembers that it was forbidden at his prior working station in fear of a loss of customers.

But, it has finally come back to _that. _ Why did he quit again? Oh yeah, the whole repenting for his sins thing. If someone knew of his previous occupation, they would say that it was a load of bull. But, Cloud liked to think that he wasn't just some cold-hearted assassin. There were just some things that were morally wrong for a human to do. Sure, he had done it because a job was a job, but it didn't mean that he didn't lose countless hours of sleep or have horrible nightmares from it. From all the guilt and the pain and the begging and pleas from his targets, he had quit and made sure no offers would be able to be passed onto him.

But, the pay was high and the deals blunt and straightforward, no questions asked, and he liked that. He was also usually in a solitary state, which he preferred, never used to nor liked the idea of company. Plus, he had gained quite the reputation, able to make someone wet their pants from just one look. He smiles at the image playing through his head. Sure, people would say that the pros overcame the cons, but there should be morals or a set of guidelines that many should follow. Due to the lack of that, the world had turn into a big green and blue piece of shit. People, the same hypocritical power-hungry monsters, should not be the judgment of life or death. Or at least he thinks so.

Oh, gods. He had to rejoin the league of assassins, the only job that he was actually good at, the only job where he was the best. Sigh, maybe he could put half his brain on shutdown or knock himself out after he completed the job. Hard. Being acquainted with Barret tomorrow will be quite interesting. The retired assassin did a mental search for the address of a bar named Seventh Heaven and made sure it would be fresh in his brain tomorrow morning, which may or may not be so pleasant. If it wasn't, he could just always take a couple of shots, pretty convenient that there was a bar if you asked him.

Slowly and lazily, he picks his body off the couch and walks into his small kitchen, opening a medicine cabinet and looking through the hazardous mess of pills and other medical related things that was in desperate need of a clean out and organizational rescue. Aspirin, aspirin, aspirin- that was the mantra that he was repeating in his head on loop. With an 'aha!' and bright glint in his sapphire eyes, he finds his target and gets bottled water, due to the current living conditions and his strict sanitary hygiene issues. Soon, he chugs the duo and walks the short distance to his private bedroom.

The temporarily relieved blond yanked off his boots and socks. Ooh, that feels good; his feet have finally escaped the confines of his ill-fitting shoes. A pair of calloused hands escape worn out leather, and he unzips his sleeveless shirt with his dark trousers and tosses them into an abandoned corner, which he would remind himself to pick up tomorrow but unsurprisingly wouldn't. Bah, he felt strange for interrupting his daily nightly routine by not taking a shower, but it was just too late and so, _so_ exhausting and tiring. He falls onto his back on his unkempt bed, and the bed sheets twist and form around his masculine body, giving him some warmth to his nearly bare skin.

His eyes are half-closed when he starts to think again, drifting to his past dreams. It was strange and weird, very different, as if showing him what he could have been in the past or an active imagination gone wild. It seemed to be the same everyday, getting clearer and clearer with each passing day. He laughs as he remembers him being a prince, having people constantly at his beck and call, certainly very different from his current life. The prince chuckles a bit, thinking how his life would be different if he had at least a fifth of that social life into his current nonexistent one. But, there was also this other main character of his ongoing fantasy, a girl. Unfortunately, it would never last long enough for him to clearly see her, except for a pair of wine-colored eyes, or find out anything useful about her. She, this mystery girl, had plagued his mind twenty four seven. He likes to think that she ruined his job, but a small part of his mind says that he just wants something to blame, and that this girl deeply intrigued him more than he would like to admit.

But, he's just tired right now. So, _so _tired. He really doesn't want to put his brain in overdrive right now, considering that it was excessively mistreated. Maybe he can just close his too blue eyes and pretend that he lived another life. Maybe he can meet that ruby-eyed girl again in his enigmatic dreams. Maybe he'll actually forget reality and focus on fantasy. Yeah, he'd like that...

**O O O**

A last roll of his broad shoulders paired with a crack in the neck were the last things that he did before taking out his PHS and dialing for a ride home. Okay, he can now officially and finally say, "mission completed!" Those monsters had needed to go, dangerously attacking people on roads and interrupting transportation. A satisfied sigh escapes shapely lips, and a sound is heard when he drops onto the ground, arms and legs spread out in relaxation. He wonders how long it's going to be until he's picked up, possibly around 15-30 minutes, by car or a helicopter.

**A well-dressed man identified as Tseng, leader of the Turks, was talking to him. His unwrinkled, starched suit moved a bit each time as he spoke a word. "Zack Fair, this is your first, offical mission with your new title. I expect you to do and finish well."**

The male figure sat up, took his oversized sword, and put it back in his harness on his back. He remembers the words and face of a past mentor, someone who he had cared for deeply and thought of as an elder brother. Zack Fair had reached his life long goal, becoming a First Class SOLDIER a couple of years back, but it wasn't as great as he thought it would be. Maybe it was because the famous trio had disappeared, making him shoulder all the hard work. It had been roughly three to five years now, and there was still no news of the men. Shinra had claimed to be frantically searching, but he had worked long enough with them to know the truth. They obviously weren't. At first, they actually did try and care, for they were the greatest men Shinra had ever received, but after a year of failure, they had given up.

**Ugh. He was assigned ship duty when there were plenty of Second Classes? Heh, he just said duty. His new Mako injections were not helping him right now. The heightened sense of smell was more of a disadvantage than an advantage. There was fish and sweat and... was that...? Okay, he was definitely not digging this. He needed to do something fun, pranks possibly?**

Zack sometimes wondered if they had deliberately disappeared, not wanting to handle some of the dirty work that they had shared with the Turks, or if it was because they had wanted to leave, and Shinra had found out, wanting to exterminate them. Whichever the reason, he was quite jealous, for he knew he would not be able to quit alone, not knowing anyone who had worked for the cursed company to leave and remain alive, whether officially or not, except for the three men. The indigo-eyed man didn't exactly mind everything though, most of his obligations were to eliminate monsters and check out Mako reactors. Also, he had come to be quite famous, known for his strength and charming personality paired with his incredibly good looks.

**Score! Kunsel was so going to kill him later, but it was worth it. Everyone was starting to loosen up, needing some distraction to lessen the tension. He thinks that he's gonna rest in his quarters for a bit. People don't constantly need help. Or at least he hopes and thinks so.**

So, everything was not all that bad. No, not really. He did occasionally think about what his life would be right now if he had stayed with his parents in Gongaga, living a boring country life. Sure, he felt bad, but he was a boy with natural dreams and goals. A mental list reminds him to visit his parents soon. Zack Fair was living the life; he had fame, power, and good looks. He chuckles when he thinks of his face plastered on posters of many teenage boys, idolizing him, doing and thinking what he had done when he was younger.

**A small rumble. A big quake. Oh shit, he had just woken up from a much needed nap, and there was trouble, _now_? It was perfectly fine before. Oh geez. The slightly foggy- minded man stepped out of his resting quarters, seeing all the men run towards the deck, forming a line for the emergency lifeboats. Impressive, they weren't exactly please-stay-in-a-single-file-line, but they weren't oh-holy-shiva-we're-all-gonna-die! Who knew Shinra practiced emergency drills?**

His arms are folded beneath his head, and his eyes are closed when he hears the engine of a car past by him. One blue eye opens and an eyebrow arches, checking to see if it was indeed his ride. Typical black car with the loud Shinra logo. Yep, it was his. A door opens, and he sees fiery red hair come out. Yep, _definitely _his. The slim body exited the vehicle, car keys twirling around his fingers, and a usual smug look on the young and pale face. The red scars or tattoos (he never would tell him) seemed to accent the mischievous glint in the red head's aquamarine eyes.

**SOLDIER skills immediately kicked in. He runs inside and puts his sword upright, so that the blunt of it touched his forehead, saying words that belonged to a past mentor, "Never lose your dreams. No matter the situation, never lose your honor." Zack Fair ran back out to the deck, scouting his surroundings.**

"Oy, the oh so great Zack Fair is tired already?" That smirk was something he was already used to.

"Definitely. The weird people that you try to hitch hike from are quite an interesting bunch. I think I saw a guy making love comments to his chocobo." His body is already up, hands laced together to crack, and body twisted and turn to stretch.

"Interesting, that must have been pretty fun to watch. Since I'm such a nice guy, how about I take you back to my place?" A wink and a grin. This playful banter was starting to get a bit out of hand.

"I'm sorry to say that I'm not into that. I like vagina, but whatever gets me back into the city." A charming grin slipped onto his lips. His long strides get him to the front passenger seat, the door already opening, and his muscular body going in.

The other male figure entered the vehicle, turning on the engine and the blasting stereo. His foot presses the pedal, dangerously accelerating them out of the ruins. Zack was already used to it, knowing him for quite a while now. But, all he can do is think. Think about what had been happening for a couple of weeks now. Images would randomly appear, whether he meant to receive them or not. He didn't know if they were buried memories or if they were made up images. For some odd reason, he remembered only the first half in his past memories but not the rest. It was just so mind boggling and aggravating, not knowing what everything meant or what it was.

He vaguely hears Reno talking, and he gives a short answer or small statements that was suitable to whatever the red-headed Turk was requesting. Reno seemed to notice that the soldier wasn't exactly in the mood for their usual chitter chatter and took the hint. Zack didn't know if the pictures playing through his head was a message, but it only showed him what had happened on his first official mission as a First Class SOLDIER. The puzzled man remembered it, but he did not recall it as clearly as he had now. Everything could wrap around his calloused finger, but no, not this. He could not solve these mysterious, animated pictures.

There was the mission and the pranks and the laughs, but there was also the unnatural disaster. It was _horrible_. Men choosing their own death by jumping off the ship, people frantically pushing others to manage a ride on a lifeboat, and thunder and lightning giving off scary sounds and sights. It could have easily been mistaken as a natural disaster, but he thinks- no, _knew_- that some superior being was causing this wreck, manically and cruelly laughing at them from some altar above. And then, there was him, jumping off of the ship. He remembered the feeling of being hopeless and wanting to escape the world from a coward's way out. It was disheartening to say the least. And there was him, lifelessly and helplessly drifting further and further in to the ocean waters, regretting and wishing.

But then, he was in a cave, safely tucked away in some makeshift home. And he felt confused and scared and nervous and happy. So, _so _many conflicting emotions bursting inside him. And there was a bright, white light with a figure walking towards him, casting shadows on the floors and walls, but it'd always stop then. It would just... completely stop and leave him hanging.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: If you have not read the rewrite of chapter one, please do so now. As always, please review or else I'll forever stalk you and also make sure to alert. Thanks. Chapter did not really come out as I wanted it. There's so much dialogue; it's probably making up for the lack of it last chapter. Is Marlene in character? Also, Cloud wouldn't respond well. He turned into OriginalShyAdventIntroverted Game Cloud. I really don't know. sadlyfe.

**Warning: **Possible unlikely situations and original game Cloud.

_Cloud Strife, second in line to the throne, was dressed as inconspicuously as possible, wearing the blandest of clothing that he could find in his regal closet. It had a slight sheen to it that hinted at silk and details that seemed to belong to nobles, not princes. He had to thank his friend later, but he had to focus right now. He was currently hiding near the kitchen behind a wall, making sure that there was no one in sight. During the time, a few people had walked past him, not questioning him for his appearance made him seem like a visitor. After the hustling and bustling of people combined with the clash of pots and pans had disappeared, he stealthily entered the cooking quarters, unintentionally taking a big whiff of the baked goodies currently in the oven and placed on the counters and tables. He was tempted to stay when he heard his stomach growl in hunger, but he had an important mission to accomplish at hand. Well, if he could even start it._

_The spiky-headed prince hastily looked for a back door or window that he could easily escape through and quickly found one. Before escaping the kitchen quarters, he looked over his shoulder again to ensure that he was the only occupant in the room. After being completely satisfied, the runaway proceeded to enter the other side of the opened door. Yes, he was finally free! Almost. A frown scarred his face as he stared at the tall walls surrounding his grand home. Maybe, just _maybe_ there was a conveniently placed vine that could support him or a hole large enough for his broad body, but that was just asking for too much. He desperately yet meticulously scanned the tall blocks for _anything_. _

_Feeling desperate, his eyes close and his lips move as he says a silent prayer to the gods in hope of receiving any help. When his sapphire eyes open after a few quiet moments, he spots some vines out of the corners of his eyes that were definitely not there before. He then quickly sent a thank you. The blue-eyed man grabbed and tugged at the greens to see if it was sturdy enough to handle his not so delicate weight. After a few satisfied twists and pulls, he hefted himself onto the trailing plant and climbed, but not after another scan of the secluded area of course. He's climbing and climbing until he reaches the very top, able to see a vast expanse of land that he had always called home on one side and a land on the other that he had yet to fully explore. After descending onto the other side, he gracefully jumped and landed on his two feet. _

_Yes, he can finally taste and smell the sweet air of freedom! But, his eyes quickly narrow in suspicion. That was easy, _too_ easy. Sure, it wasn't exactly the most brilliant or well thought out plan or idea, but it was at least something. He had thought of possibly telling a lie to his mother, saying that he had needed to visit or receive something in town, but he would have had to be escorted with a guardian and be placed inside a carriage. It would have been quite hard to look normal and blend into the common folk with a man chasing you throughout the kingdom. But still, he was either being paranoid or over thinking everything._

_Sigh, whatever. The conflicted figure shook his head and started jogging towards the nearest village, for there were mostly trees and nature surrounding him besides a road that he could not take in fear of being spotted. Along the way and upon arrival, he sees things that he's never really noticed before. There were lots of peasants, most of them kids, dirty and doing odd jobs just to help support their family, while the rich and noble would look the other way in ignorance or repulsion. The appearance and sanitary conditions that people, whether rich or common or poor, were not very desirable. He would say it was not something you would see in his home, but no one seemed to mind it. Plus, the social classes seemed to avoid each other as if the common flu had turned into an epidemic. There were also other things that puzzled him, but he's trying not to focus on the negatives since this was his real _first _time out here. The finally freed man should at least try to enjoy this trip._

_He's casually strolling down the market streets when he notices that there are weird looks thrown his way as he's walking and examining, and he wonders why. A nonchalant roll of his shoulders, and he sees a man in front of him with an odd look on his face as if to say, 'run!' His mouth was about to open to ask the man a question when he hears horses and men behind him, but that should be perfectly normal, right? He turned around to see what was starting the uprising commotion and saw the cause of it coming his way. To answer his previous question, it was not since it had seemed they were chasing... him. Realization hit him as if a nasty stench had suddenly shot up his nose, and he ran. He ran as much as his legs could bring him, noticing that they did not have a close advantage nor were they far away, taking left and right turns and jumping over people and things. Sorry's were thrown around, but people were just raising their fists and cursing at him. Damn, he didn't even really get to do anything before they realized he was gone. Another desperate turn is taken when the sound of hooves nearly thunder through his ears. Suddenly, there's a hand that grabs him although it feels quite smaller than his, but that thought didn't have time to clearly register through his mind. **Oh shit, I'm done. I'm done. **_

"_It's okay. I've got you. C'mon, pick up your pace, slow poke!" _

_Wait, what? Did he just hear a female voice? An unfamiliar female voice that sounded impossibly close to him and was probably the owner of the hand that was tightly grasping his? His eyes instantly shoot down to his hand that was being tightly gripped, and his line of vision follows the stranger's hand, up a slim arm with a pair of shoulders, and a delicate neck up to a pale face. Well, this was rather new and strange. Did villagers often help each other like this in time of need, or was this just a very kind person eagerly helping him regardless of whether she knew who he was? His legs pick up faster after her casual insult clicked through his mind._

_His legs are aching, for they have ran quite a distance. When he feels a sharp tug to indicate which direction to run towards, he starts to see a seemingly secluded place, possibly where the poor lived, seeing the undesirable and terrible living conditions and poorly dressed people. Is this where the supposedly kind lady resided? Their previous fast running pace slowed to a casual walk after entering one of the filthy alleys. The soft yet slightly calloused hand releases his, and he resists a frown on his face from the lost heat. The girl seemed to be looking out, possibly making sure the pursuers had stopped or at least lost them during their heated chase throughout town. Meanwhile, he noticed she was barely panting, while he was almost doubled over, haven't had to run to such extent in awhile, even during training. For some odd reason, his head seemed to feel rather breezy. Did he happen to lose his hat...? Hands instantly came up to feel fabric but felt a full head of hair instead. Aw, fuck._

"_Hey, I think they're gone. Are you alright?" With a swish of her hair and turn of her body, she faces him, and all he can see are her eyes. Those red eyes that he can easily drown himself into. And he can actually see her now, _actually_ see her whole form. A waterfall of dark hair, wine-colored eyes, delicate facial features, and a well developed physique. It was hard not to notice, and he wonders why a beauty like her is trapped here in this dump._

"_Uh, yeah. I'm good. Thanks, by the way." His hand is rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit that he had developed since young._

_Her hands are laced behind her back, and the distance between them seemed to shorten. "Oh, it's no problem really. I like to help people, and obviously, you were in quite a big mess. So, why were there people chasing you, exactly?" Her head is slightly tilted on the side in curiosity._

_Oh. She didn't know who he was. That was... strange. His eyes widened as realization hit him. Of course, there weren't any "accidental" touches, flirtatious looks, or suggestive comments. It was just simply a man and a woman doing one another a favor and talking. This was certainly new. Women always seemed to be entranced by him, recognizing and easily falling for the handsome prince. Maybe this was good, good that this stranger didn't recognize him. Yeah... A part of his mind is whispering _liar, _clearly seeing the kind heart and beauty in this woman._

"_I was just, uh, escaping." A sheepish expression appeared on his face._

"_So, I just rescued a runaway, eh? Maybe I can receive a pretty hefty bounty for turning you in." Her body was lightly swaying from side to side, and the corner of her lips were lifted into a smile._

"_Well, I can't let you do that then, can I?" His body is nearing hers, almost trapping her slim form into the wall behind her. He can easily play her game, he thinks with a smirk that appeared on his face. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his arm is painfully locked behind his back, his wrist in her tight grasp. He thinks that he heard a giggle escape from the nameless beauty. _

"_And now you're my prisoner." He was shocked to say the least; he had never met a woman that knew of combat combined with her looks. Things could be quite interesting if he had equipped his sword, but he certainly didn't want to hurt this poor woman._

"_Okay, I surrender! I learn not to mess with fragile looking women." She released his wrist, and he immediately brought his other hand to rub it._

"_I am not fragile looking!" Her tone sounded quite offended, and he's not sure why. Wasn't being considered fragile a good thing? That was something a man of this century and society seemed to want._

"_Yes, a woman with a great physique and looks that could rival princesses across the land is definitely tough and strong. How could I ever mistaken you for Venetian glass?" He's trying to keep his face devoid of any emotion instead of smiling at the cute, frustrated look on her face._

_Her face seemed flushed, cheeks slightly reddening. He decided it looked quite nice on her. "Pfft, yeah. Of course." There's an unladylike like snort that didn't lessen his attraction to her, and she seemed to be walking in a certain direction, possibly trying to ditch him and leave him behind._

"_Wait! I didn't even get your name!" He ran up to her, hoping and trying to receive all of her focus and attention._

_She turned around, walking backwards, seemingly unperturbed that she could easily trip and fall. "Tifa, Tifa Lockhart." Tifa turned right back._

"_Hey, aren't you going to ask for mine?" He wonders if she can feel his eyes boring into her back, silently willing her to keep him company for the rest of his adventure. He's telling himself it's because she possibly had lived here for many years and could give him a private tour. His mind is whispering _liar.

"_Okay. What's yours?" A frown marked his face when she wouldn't turn around to meet his._

_He wondered if he should tell her his real name; it seemed pretty harmless. After all, she didn't seem to recognize him, right? But, would she recognize his name? "Cloud Strife." _

_Her gait seemed to slow down just a bit, not so noticeably, and he wonders if he was suppose to see that. "Oh, that's an interesting name." She didn't turn, nor did she indicate any clue of identification. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or if the strong feeling in his gut was from exhaustion and not from her._

**O O O**

He woke up with a start. He had actually seen the girl's face, and it boggled his mind. Why did it take him so long just to see it? Was she of some big importance? Was this a sign to indicate that he would meet her soon? Ugh, his hand covers his eyes. _No need to get so worked up over some possible figment of your wild imagination, Strife. _He had a more important task at hand, escaping retirement and possibly meeting the irate face of a big, black man. That was absolutely something that he wanted and needed to do so early in the morning alright. When a certain smell reached his nose, a rush to the shower came to mind and the deserted clothing from last night flashed in his eyes. Cloud Strife, previous assassin with a kick ass sword, got slightly worked up over sanitary and cleaning issues. What a rather amusing thought.

Shower is soon done and his usual dark-colored clothing, complete with his knitted top and dark trousers, are topped with his standard combat boots. Hands enter leather, and a sword enters a harness. Breakfast consisted of a plain piece of toast and a glass of milk. His big appetite causes him to hope that there would possibly be breakfast served at the bar, that is, if he didn't wimp out. Keys are picked up from the kitchen table, tossed randomly so it would seem like a game of throw and catch. A door is opened and then closed; keys are turned through the lock for security. Legs take him to his garage, and an engine is turned on. An image of a man riding a motorcycle was what a random passerby would see.

He's speeding down the roads, enjoying the wind rustle through his hair and the adrenaline running through his body. As planned, directions flashed through his mind from the previous night, and he's well on his way. There are several sharp turns and blocks before he reached his destination, Seventh Heaven. A poorly built building with a huge sign that contained its name appeared in his vision. Fenrir is parked, body is at the door, and the man is finally in. It is bright inside, and a bell dings at his arrival. He is suddenly the attention of several pairs of eyes. Two unfamiliar men and a woman quietly eat while he's being stared down by a pair of dark, angry ones. The feel of discomfort immediately creeps up his spine, and the awkward silence seemed to cut through the air.

"So, Spike's finally back, eh?" The man with a gun for his arm went around the bar, finally in front of the spiky-headed man. Cloud's not sure if he should speak, so he nods affirmatively.

"Why are you here?" Blunt as ever. Big, burly arms are crossed, paired with a menacing gaze, and the man seemed to tower over him.

"Need a job." He's trying to keep his eyes focused on his, determined to not falter his intense gaze.

"As I recall, your spiky-assed self wanted to quit long ago. You really think Imma just hand one to ya?" Actually, yes. Yes, he did, but he wasn't going to voice that thought out loud unless he wanted bullets up his ass.

"And now I'm back. Is there a problem?" He crossed his arms too, daring him to defy him.

"Yes, because I have no offers." An unexpected big grin broke out on the bigger man. Well, that was surprising. "Y'know I can't deny you! No one has made me any more money than you _and_ kill off so many fucktards. I say, welcome back." Even _more_ surprising. Was this another trick played by his imagination? Because, he was pretty sure Barret _never_ liked him.

He's staring at his new boss, not knowing how to make of the situation. "Why are you staring at me like that?" Stare, stare.

"Is this a joke?" Stare, stare, _stare._

"Do ya think I look like I'm joking? Wait, don't answer that. I don't need some smartass remark from you." That actually earned a grin from said smartass.

A loud growl escaped from his belly. Awkward. "Can I have some food?" A roar of laughter is heard, and he can feel his body being pushed towards a stool. Oh my gods, so much food on one little plate. His mouth is suddenly really dry, eyes silently asking the obvious question when looking at Barret.

"Yeah, man! You gotta gain some weight. Your skinny little white ass is lookin' skinnier than before." Okay, should he feel offended or...? Never mind. Cloud hungry. Food good, food important.

Pancakes are scarfed down. A glass turned clear as orange juice is drunk away. Plates contained of greasy marks as bacon is devoured. That was some nice food. He's not sure when he last had so much food and actually felt full. The strangers looked and stared at him silently. Maybe they were in this business too. This was still weird. Stare, stare, stare, _stare._ Was there some staring contest that he was out on? Muffled footsteps are heard as he was thinking of the current situation.

"Cloud!" Did he just hear a high pitched voice that belonged to a little girl that also happened to be his boss's daughter? A pair of arms wrapped around his too full stomach, and it gives him slight discomfort. Oof, yep it's her, Marlene.

He turned around to ruffle her hair. "Sup, squirt." Her eyes are lit up, and her smile seemed to lighten the room even more. Quickly, he is confronted in the best way a five year old could.

"I missed you! Where have you been? Daddy said you had to go somewhere. But I was, like, nooooo because you said we'd play tomorrow. And then you never came _ever. _And, and, I just really missed you, and I think Daddy did too." A look in the direction of a certain _someone_ seemed to confirm her statement when he was met with an angrily eating Barret. Ha, the old man missed his money making machine and part time bouncer, eh? How interesting. Poor little girl, he didn't think she'd missed him that badly. She'll probably force him to make up for it by playing castles and dragons or playing dress up or dolls, but he wouldn't mind since he missed the little figure filled with energy and excitement too. Maybe he'll get her a chocobo since she liked it when he would playfully say, _warkk!_

"So, you missed me? I didn't know you liked me that much, cutie." That earned a slightly abashed Marlene.

"Maybe." Her tongue is stuck out, and she's running towards her dad who was silently fuming but turned soft when met with his daughter.

_So, let me get this straight. _Okay, so he's here in a bar eating breakfast with his current boss, his daughter, and three strangers. He just ate a _ton_ of good food for _free_. _Barret_ acted like he _liked_ him. Marlene is still, well, Marlene. Three strangers staring at him "discretely" and has not said a word, not even one, and he _still _isn't introduced or have any knowledge of any changes whatsoever. What the fuck?

"So, am I going to get introduced here or what?" Eyes appear emotionless.

"Yeah! That girl is Jessie; she's a _really _good cook. She makes all of our breakfast and lunches and dinner, _and_ she's smart too (she hears a 'That's great, sweetie, but please continue). And _that_ one, the one on her right is Biggs! He likes to throw the bad guys from the bar out when they're being _big_ meanies and always helps Daddy with whatever he needs because they said I'm too young and weak, but I'm strong (there's a 'Princess, introduce the last one or else he'll get sad). Sorry, ooh. And the one on the _other_ side of Jessie is Wedge! He usually stays around the kitchen because he's always hungry, but he's _really_ nice. He likes to help Biggs too." Her arms are on her hips in pride and accomplishment, and her chin is high up in the air in confidence.

Cloud examined the group: the stocky one on the left, the petite brunette in the middle, and the the lean man on the right. They seemed to be close friends or siblings possibly, all of them having brown hair and brown eyes although Jessie's were much lighter and seemed quite close with one another. "Thanks, girly," he said with an extra ruffle to her hair, which earned an excited squeal. His attention reverts back to the triplets slash three musketeers. Maybe he'll call them that.

"Cloud Strife." He received a friendly 'hey, I'm Wedge!', a shy and giggly 'I'm Jessie', and a blunt 'Biggs.' Interesting, _very_ interesting. If these three were of any importance to the man in charge, he'd be quite intrigued by their ability and capability.

"So, Barret, this your gang or something?" His elbows are leaning on the counter.

"Somewhat like that. What's it to you?" A dark eyebrow arched.

Shoulders shrug. "Nothing, just wondering."

"Sure, you were, spikey. Make sure you don't bring any of your crap here; I have enough on my plate, and I don't need my baby girl to be in any sort of danger."

Really now? Living in the slums and running a little organization was dangerous enough, hypocrite. He bit his tongue. "You kiss your little girl with that mouth?" A smirk was intact.

Glare.

"My bad, my bad. I'm sorry. No hard feelings here." His hands were up in mock surrender. Things are quiet, although not in an awkward way as before. Quite fine, really. Time to ruin it. "So, now that we're all acquainted and well here. Do any of you know a Tifa Lockhart?"

Barret's eyes slightly widened, obviously not intentional, possibly in recognition. "No."

What a dirty liar.


	3. Chapter 3

_There was a loud noise of two forces colliding against each other, but he noticed that it was him, hitting the water. His body seemed to be on shutdown, refusing to fight against the forces of nature. He had narrowly escaped from some tragedy, and he didn't know why. It certainly wasn't on purpose, though he would not escape from death much longer as his body fell slowly, oh too slowly._

_He simply wanted to escape from the crashing ship, quickly and poorly repaired, neglected of its technical needs and occupants. Serves SHINRA right to lose one of its best and last of its men. He remembered taking a quick glimpse at the faces of the terrified grunts and lower ranked SOLDIERS, watching their reactions to his body being thrown overboard was priceless, especially Kunsel's. It was nice to see their once goofy and loyal faces worrying after him. On the other hand, there was no way that all of them would survive in that "natural disaster" or "accident." It must had been a sign, indicating him of something incredible. _

_He didn't know nor did he care. He was dying._

_If he had stayed, he knew that only more disaster would occur. Supplies would quickly run out, and no amount of stress signals towards SHINRA would make its associates and back up come any faster. Its group of people simply didn't care about anything unless it concerned money and power. Manpower and slaughter only occurred when threats and a possibility of even more fame would arise. On the other hand, survival of the fittest would soon occur on the sinking and salvaged remains of the ship, and Zack knew that he would be the last one standing. That fact was extremely unfair._

_And so he was endlessly floating in miles of blue that was darkening into black, trying not to swallow the gallons of salt water as he continued to drift deeper and deeper into oblivion. Sleep, exhaustion, and the waning thought of survival all combined to swallow him into darkness. He didn't expect to wake up anytime soon. Or live._

_But, after a life full of the combinations of the good and bad, Zack Fair could finally say that he had lived a successful and eventful life. He had become a hero in a sorta twisted and delusional sort of way. He had been made to become known as one of the best of the best. He had accomplished his main goals of his life while living lavishly in fame and power. But, he had accomplished this wrongly as he did not picture the climb to success as being so malign and cruel._

_However, death was calling his name as the need for oxygen became a faint whisper, as his heartbeat became slower and quieter. Peace—there was finally _peace _and relaxation and _emptiness_. Everything hushed, and there was a semblance of a smile on his lips. _

_Maybe he swallowed too much saltwater, he thinks. He knew that he never quickly gave up nor dispose of his optimist character before. Maybe the gods will give him a chance. He knew that he was a genuine person. Maybe he'll die. He'll know that he deserved it. _

_After all, Zack Fair was not someone that Shinra had made him out to be, despite his actions and wrongdoings. _

_He was and _is _Zack Fair-_hero_._

. . .

_The first word that enters his mind is that he's tired. So, so tired yet not at the same time. It's a peculiar feeling he thinks, but the exhausted man can't seem to remember much. Everything had quickly become a mere blur and distant memory, tucked in the neglected corner of his brain._

_But then there is noise from an intruder he thinks, and his training instantly kicks in. The male figure remained still, his eyes closed and body stiff. He hears the sound of clattering bowls and the shuffling of chairs. There is also humming- feminine humming, which was quite strange since he had no recent interactions with any women. _

_The thought of this unknown location jolts his mind._

_His mind jump starts at the thought, especially when he hears the sound of feet coming towards his way. He was on a bed, bare chest, and covered with sheets at the waist. Through what he could see from his lashes, he was in a humble home full of remains and nature, most particularly violets. He could see the image of a woman sitting next to his bed, soaking a strip of fabric in a bowl of water, making sure that the pad would not be soaking wet nor unbearably dry. His lips suddenly felt barren and chapped, and he was tempted to lick them. However, he would not allow the action in a place of complete mystery with an even more mysterious stranger._

_She placed her hand onto his forehead, feeling his temperature, and he hated to admit that it felt oh so good. She then placed the pad onto his forehead, which allowed him to smell a flash of lavender. After, she placed some water into a cup beside the bed, just in case he would wake up. And with that, she left the premises. _

_After he was sure that she had left, the man instantly opened his eyes and grabbed the glass of water. The clear liquid felt like rain pouring during a desert, and he soon felt regretful after he had quickly downed the blue vitality. _

_He stood up from the bed, suddenly aware of his lack of clothing as he tied the sheets around his waist. As he examined his surroundings closely, he realized that this was no ordinary cave. Someone had stayed here for quite a while to assemble and insert semblances of furniture inside. _

_A sad excuse of a mattress laid in the very back where he was, covered with plain white sheets and pillows. The size and length of the cave allowed a few broken shelves to line the walls, adorned with various assortments of trinkets and memoirs of journals. Plus, there seemed to be a small chifferobe in poor condition on one side of the bed. Besides the small amount of furniture, flowers and other forms of nature twined themselves decoratively around and throughout the cave. Overall, the home was humble yet beautiful in its own antique and nature picturesque way._

_As curiosity overtook him, he examined the items on the shelves. He noticed that they were pieces of jewelery or items that were possibly homemade or had drifted ashore. Plus, he had discovered that the items all coincidentally had similar initials. _Z.F. _He couldn't help but feel chills run down his spine as he thought of his name, Zack Fair, eerily fitting the requirements for the initials. To help forget the bizarre factor of the whole situation, he focused his attention onto the quantity of journals, some thicker and older than others and signed with the initials _T.L.

_He was tempted to examine each and every single nook and cranny until paranoia and his gut told him to remain in bed. But, when he arrived at the resting quarters, he noticed that one of the journals and a pen were placed conveniently next to him. He opened it to the very first page, the only page that was filled in with neat cursive. Despite the warning signals that his body and brain gave him, his stubbornness took over, and he read:_

_**Day 1.**_

_**He's come back, but unlike the many other times, I must stop. I shall not succumb. I do not want to live through another age of torture. Though I am planning not to do so, that does not mean that I cannot care for him, for I am quite lonely and in desperate need of comfort and companionship.**_

_**Also, I have noticed that the waters have saved him once again, leading him to me as it always has and will. This thought will come in handy as I start to commence my plan that I have shared with another, **_**the one that lives inside****_. _**

_**I do not know what I shall do after a few days, for I have always proven myself wrong. I cannot avoid him, nor can I learn to hate him. However, I have started to hate my compassion and likeliness of forgiveness towards others, especially towards the men of my life-one with the eyes of the **_**sky ****_and the other of the _waters_. _**

_**For as long as I shall live, the trickery of love shall send my everlasting life into an endless downfall of loss and despair.**_

_Confusion quickly encased his mind. Had he been here before? No, he couldn't have. He had no prior recollections. Maybe she had mistaken him for someone else of a similar face, but his supposed previous visits would coincide correctly with the initialed possessions._

_Trying to clear his mind, he paced and walked towards the entrance of the cave but did not dare to venture outside. His eyes had not yet become accustomed to the brightly gleaming sun, and his hand instantly shielded his eyes in habit. Except, this time, it didn't feel like lead. _

_This sudden realization made him notice how quickly his body had adjusted back towards its healthy and normal state, possibly due to Mako injections, but his body felt refreshed in a way that wasn't due to foreign substances and chemicals. It simply felt refreshed and new and clean and strangely_ different.

_As he leaned his body onto the side of the entrance, he examined the outside environment. It looked like an island, a tropical paradise. The cave was positioned right near the coastline, the small levels of water and currents tickling his feet. He wondered if wild waves had ever completely washed out and drenched the contents of the cave, forcing the occupant to find a temporary shelter._

_His mind was not able to drift, nor was his body able to exit the cave to explore. He saw the shadow of a body coming towards him on the waters, so he quickly returned to his original spot without a sound. While untying the sheets around his waist to blanket himself, he glimpsed on his side to make sure that the journal was left in its original state._

_The sound of feet could be heard as he tried his best to not alarm the stranger, his breathing quieting and his body still. His heart was pounding in his ears and threatening to escape the barrier of his chest after considering some new things that he had learned from his short examination. _

_He heard her sit down beside his form, refilling his cup from a bucket or pitcher and setting both items down. There was a sound of shuffling from the journal, possibly being flipped and moved to another destination. Then, she picked up the quickly forgotten pad that had fallen during his anxious attempt to hydrate himself with water. She merely placed it elsewhere and proceeded to place her hand onto his forehead, comparing his previous and current temperatures. After feeling satisfied, she combed her fingers into his hair, taming his unruly mane as she started to hum once again._

_He felt as if he had heard it before from some far and distant memory, but he wasn't quite sure. His mom sang songs to him as a child, but he was sure that she had never sang this particular one. Plus, his girls and love interests didn't necessarily sing as often as they did yell and scream his name. It was frustrating to hear something so similar yet not. _

_As he pondered more onto that last thought, he realized that one thought explained this whole situation. Everything was starting to feel lik__e__ d____éjà vu__, __and this was making him question if he was just planting ideas into his head after probing the privacy of the girl._

_When she stopped her actions, his resolve broke, and he opened his eyes and grabbed her hand before she could entirely pull away. Red-that was all he saw, and he was drowning in it. He was falling and falling into the pits of scarlet and crimson, yet she somehow caught him from danger with the gold that hid in her eyes._

_Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction did _not_ bring it back._

**O O O**

He woke with a start, and he could not forget those eyes.

The red that reminded him of the merciless slayings full of blood, the passion of love, and the stain that it had put onto his life.

His hand combed through his mane, and he exhaled roughly in exasperation. That was the most vivid and thorough dream he had received, seeing the eyes of the girl for the very first time. The appearance of the pair of seeing instruments seemed to left an imprint in his mind.

Now that the images of his dreams annoyingly invaded his mind, he couldn't believe that he was on break, something unusual for a First Class SOLDIER. He needed something arduous like a mission to remove the newly found stress that he had just attained. He guessed that SHINRA didn't want to risk the chance of losing its last man, especially after the part of the dream concerning an unusual mishap. But, he did not remember anything about waking up on an island and meeting a girl. He simply remembered being rescued by a helicopter while drifting in the water, waiting for help.

His dream mystified him. His mind couldn't have created such a dream, for he had not been associated with anything that had pertained to it. It was all too much.

The confusion conjured a major goal into his mind, for he would soon head to SHINRA HQ to find and read that mission file. But, he would save that objective for another day. For now, he was headed towards Seventh Heaven, a favorite spot of his to think and sulk in the so-called deadly slums.

. . .

He couldn't help but examine his surroundings, a now well-practiced habit. The regulars were starting to pile in. However, there was someone new and unfamiliar in a heated argument with Barret in a corner booth, accompanied by Biggs and Wedge. He merely shrugged it off, and he couldn't help but wink at the ladies as he made his way to the bar counter. He sat and was met by Jessie, a girl that took an instant liking to him when he first came with Reno, a friend who had introduced him to this place. Automatically, she gave him his usual and smiled shyly at him.

He wasn't dressed in his usual SOLDIER uniform. People in the slums didn't particularly like Shinra and anything that pertained to him and his company. When coming to a place of comfort and entertainment, he didn't need any incriminating looks and snide remarks, though Reno could have cared less as he would appear in his sloppy and infamous uniform. Speaking of the unkempt Turk, he was not here as usual, and Zack was disappointed at not seeing a possible person of distraction.

He was hindered by the images he kept receiving. Nothing seemed to occupy his thoughts except for them. He quickly downed his beer, but it didn't help him much. In fact, it made him even worse. He considered talking to Jessie, but another distraction had come towards his way.

Barret had heavily slammed his arm of a weapon on the table, his face red in anger. However, the other man's demeanor was as cool as the color of his eyes, and Zack suddenly thought of a line in the dream journal:

"_**However, I have started to hate my compassion and likeliness of forgiveness towards others, especially towards the men of my life-one with the eyes of the **_**sky **_**and the other of the **_**waters**_**.**__"_

Though it was a long shot, the man's eyes could easily have been the skies or waters from his shade of blue. It seemed to promise onlookers some sort of life in this environment that was devoid of color. Could it have been him? No, he was one of the many men that had blue eyes, including himself. If he were one of the men that had she talked about, then it would certainly have made more sense.

But what also troubled him was what she wrote before. What did she mean about the compassion and forgiveness towards those two unknown men? Had they betrayed her in some way? Had they all have had some sort of connection?

He quickly looked away from the man, the stranger looking at him a millisecond after, sending him a chilling glare before turning away. The azure-eyed man was waiting for Barret to relax, causing Wedge to blow off some of the black man's steam while the other man just smirked. That man must have had a lot of guts to intentionally rile Barret unless the two had known each other for quite a while. He, a personal victim of some of Barret's threats, was quite amused at both the sight and thought.

Even though curiosity had already screwed him up, it took over his mind once more.

"Hey, Jessie!" He had caught her attention. He felt bad for manipulating her, but he wanted to know more about the man.

"What's up, handsome?" She smiled brightly at him, and he couldn't help but match her pearly whites.

"Oh, y'know, just manhandling those creepy crawlers and people who just can't take a hint. Anyway, do you happen to know that man's name over there?" He nonchalantly pointed his thumb at the blond-haired man, and he noticed her immediate hesitation.

"He's just a new customer, no biggie! Why do you wanna know?" Her fingers were nervously tapping the bar, her lips becoming a victim of her gnawing teeth.

"I thought I saw him around this one time, maybe as one of my friends' friend, but I guess I won't know now." He placed his hand onto his cheek, circling the ring of his mug with a dull look in his eyes. He hoped that his fake disappointment would cause her to spill... and he was right.

"Strife, Cloud Strife." She was starting to bite on her nails, her eyes afraid of looking into his.

"What?" He mocked surprise and astonishment, his head slightly upturned to her direction.

"That's his name. Cloud Strife." Her face held a sheepish expression, her amber eyes flickering back and forth from the huddle of men in the corner to him.

"Hm, maybe he wasn't someone I knew, but thanks so much, sweetheart!" He leaned over the wooden expanse to plant a kiss on her cheek, causing both of her cheeks to swell with color.

As he received a new refill from his brief informant, he couldn't help but use his enhanced hearing to eavesdrop onto Cloud and Barret's conversation. They were fighting over something for sure, and he was not determined to find out what. The argument was getting nowhere as one would stare while the other would shout.

Cloud had threatened to leave and retreat, but Barret said it was fine since he had just returned. The blond-haired man dropped to a low whisper, causing Zack to slightly squirm in impatience. The older man was not amused, his whispers of curses loud enough to reach his ears. There was no direction in the altercation as they merely threw threats at each other, leaving Biggs and Wedge to sit awkwardly on the side.

As he was gulping his drink, Zack noticed Jessie walk towards the group only to turn right back after receiving glares from the two men, but she seemed unperturbed when she returned to the dishes. Unashamed, the raven-haired man turned on his charm once more.

"Jessie, what's going on over there? Are you alright?" She looked surprised at his thoughtfulness, interrupting her chores for just a bit.

"Yeah, I'm fine, and Barret's just picking a fight with someone as usual. Thanks, by the way." She smiled at him, and he winked back.

"No problem! Anything for a fine bartender as yourself." He inched closer towards her, and he felt his stomach drop as he saw the glazed look in her eyes. "Jessie, you know you can trust me, right?"

She nodded yes and inched closer towards him. The feeling in the pit of his stomach worsened as guilt started to overtake him.

"Then can you tell me what those two gentlemen are fighting over?" The fog in her eyes cleared a bit, and her nervous demeanor from before returned as her eyes widened. She contemplated and seemed to argue with herself before settling onto an answer.

"Cloud wants to know if Barret knows anything about a girl by the name of Tifa Lockhart, but Barret claims that he doesn't know her. Their argument has been going on for quite a while now, and I don't understand why." She received a 'thank you' and a kiss to the forehead as he downed the last of his drink.

Tifa. Lockhart. _Tifa Lockhart_. Why did that name seem so familiar or important? The answer shot to him instantly as his brain was on overdrive.

The initials on the journals, _T.L._ Tifa Lockhart fit perfectly, but it must have been a coincidence. Maybe that man, Cloud Strife, knew something about her too and somehow found out about her identity, or this whole thing was just a giant fiasco made from the imagination of his cruel mind.

But, he knew his answer as he placed bills under his mug and got up from his seat to leave, for Zack Fair and Cloud Strife's glances met, and they saw both of their lives flash into the other's eyes.

.

.

.

**x**

**Woo, I nearly made you all wait for another year! I'm so sorry, lovelies. Inspiration for this kinda died after there were no new interests after the rewrite. Plus, school and real life took a toll, especially ever since I received an influx of new ideas. So, if you read the first two chapters that I ever published and never reread this story, please reread again to actually read the revision or to just refresh your memory. I am also having my first and new beta reader to proofread them just in case.**

**Honestly, I'm not too satisfied with this chapter as it seemed forced even though I made a chapter guideline that would help me with what to write content wise. Anyway, you all have read from each person's point of view. Let's see how this story unravels. Maybe you all can guess what I'm going to write next? Also, I would like to thank all my followers, favoriters, and reviewers. (:**

**In addition, for you Cloti lovers, feel free to check out Dull Silver & its companion piece, Loud Whisper. And for you Fack fans, feel free to check out my most recent piece eccedentesiast. They are all different styles and have received positive reviews if you have not checked them out yet. **

**Overall, please tell me what you think of this new chapter by posting a review. Critiques are welcome. Hopefully, I can earn new readers and reviewers. See you next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of heels clicking can be heard as a particular female was lead underground. She was walking down an impossibly long hallway, the silence crisp and deafening besides the sound of her shoes and the sloppy sauntering of her escort.

It had been much trouble for her to find this area; for she had previously worn raggedy clothing that made her look like a beggar in an area of the new and different slums, and her chauffeur had not even appeared until much later, causing quite a scene for she had been placed in a surrounding full of incompetent fools who fortunately had no earthly idea of her identity.

The walls, ceiling, ground, and doors were all a blinding white and meticulously clean, no dirt or other color in sight, and the artificial lighting of the whole building was clear and bright, burning endless amounts of watts and energy. It was new and quite different from what she was used to.

When a certain red head had arrived in a sleek black car, suit messily strewn, she had been waiting impatiently for hours on end. Cold from the lack of real clothing, he had offered her a set of clothes that he had handpicked himself from a nearby boutique. Despite the short dress being backless with a plunging neckline and her shoes being a pair of not so comfortable crimson pumps, she had taken it anyway, especially after the not so classy Turk gave her his jacket.

At the end of the hallway, the lackadaisical male stopped in front of a pair of two tall to ceiling doors, an emblem proudly decorated with details that she could not stop to admire due to haste and time, but she would remember the image of an ornate shield inside the space of a cursive "C."

She and Reno had been acquainted for quite a while, though the latter would have liked to be more, occasionally throwing suggestive remarks and looks though he was surprisingly a very smart and philosophical man. Despite his sloppy appearance, he could easily kill and keep an intelligent conversation with his own Renoisms – something he and she both liked to call his amusing thoughts. She liked their relationship of informant and seeker, guardian and support. It was simple and easy to understand, for it was also his job.

She entered an interrogation room and was once again met with impeccable white. Two sided mirrors, a great glass table, and two leather chairs placed on either side of the expanse filled the room. She thought it was quite unnecessary, causing an uncomfortably tight and stiff atmosphere. How professional, she wryly thought.

She felt strangely cornered as she waited for instructions, keeping close to the navy blue jacket that still contained his smoky and hazy scent, continuing to give her warmth.

The sound of a worn and old folder hitting the table was heard as its contents were spewed from the contact, disrupting the state of the room's perfection. She quickly eyed the front of it to see the emblem and her name.

"Hey, toots. Feel free to take a seat." The red-head plopped onto the chair closest to the folder, creating an audible plopping noise. The stern look in his aquamarine eyes betrayed the easy smile he wore on his lips.

She complied and sat back in the other chair, her eyes dull and unamused as she crossed her arms. "Where's Tseng?" Her voice was cool and leveled, slithering its way into the male's ears. She greatly preferred the boss over Reno; everything was much easier that way with a clear cut man such as him.

His lower lip jutted out, forming a pout on pale lips. "Aw, you don't want me? Ouch, that really hurts a lot, sweetheart." He proceeded to dramatically grab at his heart, creating one of the worst heart wrenching faces she had ever seen.

Her eyes squinted in annoyance, her legs crossing and uncrossing. "With him, at least I'd know he wouldn't get distracted too easily." Her smirk shined dangerously in the white light, daring him to further disinterest her as he removed his eyes from her well-developed bosom.

He flashed his teeth, his eye shining in mischief with no shame, but his face turned blank as he straightly said, "Boss man's out; so let's hurry up and get on to business, shall we?" He took the folder into his hands, flipping through the expanse of inked papers seriously, his chair balancing on the edges of two of its four feet as he challenged balance and gravity.

He closed the folder and sat it back down onto the table, his cheek supported by a palm of his hand, his arm bent at the elbow. He flashed his pearly whites, and she smiled professionally in return.

He snapped his fingers, and she heard a hidden camera or recorder flick on. A robotic female voice had activated, announcing the time and date, emitting an obnoxiously loud beep after.

"First name."

"Rebecca."

"Last name."

"Aurelia."

"Age."

"It's only but a number."

"Sex."

"As long as you're inside me."

"Height."

"12 inches."

"Weight."

"Ah, ah, ah. A lady's secret."

"Occupation."

"Unemployed."

He waved his pointer finger left and right, ushering a 'tsk, tsk, tsk.' "Not for long, Rebecca." She opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind, noticing that he was looking for something in his pockets, but he grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter instead, planting his feet onto the once immaculate table. "Want a smoke?"

She shook her head and wrinkled her nose in disgust as the odor made its passage into her nose. She stood up from her seat and walked over to him, sitting on the edge of the table in front of him, her form fitting dress's length riding up as she crossed her legs. She leaned in to whisper lowly into his ear, nibbling on it, "Reno, when is my real interrogation? Quit and hurry with the fake profiling." She balanced herself by placing her palms onto the table, careful not to hit him.

He proudly let his eyes roam up the long length of her legs, the hemline of her dress, her breasts, and finally stopped at her face. Besides her bombshell body, he always did like those fiery eyes. He removed the cigarette from his lips, stamped it into ashes onto the once clean floor, and blew the rest of the smoke from his lips. He stood up, nudged her legs opened a bit to place himself in between, and placed both of his hands beside her hips. He leaned in to whisper lowly into her ear, gladly aware of the group of goosebumps he had created, slightly tugging on the tear drop earring. "What's the rush?"

She wrapped her legs around his hips, wound her arms around his neck. and felt her body being lifted from the table from the hands holding her up by her thighs. Their noses bumped, and their breaths mingled, "Nothing. I just like things fast and hard." Their lips accidentally yet purposely touched, and he felt the smile on her red lips.

Just then, he snapped his fingers, and a flicker of the machine was heard that signaled its shutdown. He carried her over to her seat, gently placing her into it. "Contrary to popular belief, Lockhart, I'm actually quite a gentleman. Feel free to keep the jacket if you want."

She hummed thoughtfully, her fingers tapping at her lower lip. She took off the article of clothing and helped him put it back on. "Thanks, but no thanks. God knows what the rest of your group thought we did after, and I'd like them to think we have all our clothing in one piece." They both chuckled, and he proceeded to smirk smugly.

He grabbed his chair closer to her and turned it around so that he could lean his arms onto the back of the chair, enabling him to have a more intimate conversation with the lady. He took the folder and examined it once more with clear intent. "You seemed quite experienced in that little stunt you just pulled off, snookums."

She rolled her eyes. "Just doing what you told me to." Seeing him lift a finger and slightly open his mouth, she said, "Just shush it. I don't want an in depth conversation about your organization's technology and security system. Plus, what could go wrong?"

The whisper of the word _everything _stuck in the air.

She spoke again, "I don't understand why we went through all this hassle. Word probably already got around when I was left standing around like an idiot, and now we just went through a faked recording. Why exactly did we not just meet in some isolated or crowded area again?" She crossed her arms and exhaled roughly through her nose, causing her bangs to fly haphazardly.

He waved his hands in the air as if it would dismiss the unresolved tension and their numerous problems. "Doing this is much safer. I couldn't risk any of the other Elements sensing your presence considering how strong it is. Plus, this room is the only one in existence to be safe proof, fool proof, _and _magic proof. Protecting the Planet requires such fancy equipment, doll face." He tapped his fingers to an unknown beat on the table, waiting for another influx of questions.

"Well, what are you planning to do?" She was feeling impatient. Too much time had passed.

"There's not much I can really do considering I'm working solo here." He motioned her to lean closer as he did, "Tseng will most probably think you're some whore that I pulled in. There's a real and substantial reason why I came late, gave you those clothes that just happens to make you look oh so fine, chose the seat with the camera, _and _wrapped you all around me." He winked, but she couldn't help but make a displeased face at the thought of being interpreted as a whore.

"And why exactly are you working solo?" She had noticed the lack of his fellow employees. The building seemed empty, and it was unnaturally silent in a usually busy organization.

He looked at her as if she didn't know one plus one equaled two. "Because I'm the only one that's on your side, little missy. If I were anyone else; they'd report you to Vita, Oculus, or even the Omnisciens, and I'm assuming that you want this to be hush hush between you and me, correct?"

He received a small nod.

"Good. Even though us Curators are suppose to be impartial, shit happens, which causes corruption and bias. We're suppose to be guardians of the Planet for gods' sakes, but the world's a fucked up place. You of all people should know that I could be in deep mother fucking shit for being here with you right now. There may be only four of us, but there's just too much for us to handle. Oh, and I'll stop with the language. I know you hate that. Sorry, people piss me off."

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. She knew that there was chaos amongst all of them, but she didn't think it'd affect the Curators that much, especially with such a strict and stoic man as Tseng as its leader. "Geez, Reno. I didn't know you could speak so much about something that's not about sex."

He rolled his eyes at the stereotype he himself had created as part of his cover, but he knew she was just messing with him. "So, you ready for the big guns, Miss Lockhart?"

"Okay. I'm ready. Give it to me." She saw his eyes twinkle with a mischievous delight, so she glared at him to prevent from receiving a provocative remark.

She inhaled and took a deep breath.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Cloud Strife."

"Love."

He removed pictures from her file and placed it flat and straight onto the table before her. One was an old painting kept in good condition of a man with gravity defying golden hair, looking quite handsome in his royal wear, black with gold detailing. A photograph next to it was a close up of his torso and face. His shirt was more modern; it was a dark sleeveless wool sweater, zipped up to the middle of his chest. His vision of focus seemed to be the photographer or someone or something close to him or her, for his eyes stared right into hers.

There was no black and white in the realms of reality and fantasy.

"Zack Fair."

"Second chance."

The third photo was of a raven-haired man in a blue uniform, posing with an older friend next to him, a bright and contagious smile implanted on the youth's face while the elder looked quite exhausted just being in his presence. The last photo was of the same youngster caught in a messy prank gone wrong, evident by his surroundings and the widening of his eyes, resembling a deer in headlights.

There's too much gray. It's blazing.

"Aerith Gainsborough."

"Betrayal."

There's a new photo, depicting a slim and graceful young woman. Her emerald eyes shine the brightest of all the the flowers she cares for in the photo, and the color of pink covers her from head to toe.

Beauty and purity resonates, and it leaves a nasty taste in her mouth.

"Yuffie Kisaragi."

"Friendship."

Another one is passed, and it's of a petite girl with her hand on her hips, a strong passion burning in her dark almond eyes. Despite being the smallest figure in a horde of tall men, her facial expression and pose of a similar stubbornness and determination caused her to stand out.

Her body feels weak and limp, drained of energy.

Reno noticed the dilation of her eyes, the darkening of its rich ruby color, and the golden flecks that were appearing quite too early.

"Tifa."

"Curse."

"No. Tifa, look at me." Worry was evident in aquamarine eyes, especially after hers appeared glazed as she averted her attention from the pictures and settled it onto him.

"What?" She couldn't tell if it was all too much.

"Are you okay?" He made sure that their eyes met, so she could and would not avoid lying.

"Yes." Her eyes wavered; and her lie was made obvious, but he would've known anyway. She was a stubborn woman.

"No, you're not. It's obvious, so stop lying." He knew she wouldn't though, especially with her determined look of scrunched eyebrows and pursed lips.

"Then why'd you ask?" She messily ran a hand through her hair, and he was tempted to fix the pieces that were left standing.

"To see if you were stupid enough to lie to me." He smiled to try to lessen the suddenly bleak atmosphere.

"A girl can try." She tried to smile, but her attempt failed.

"Now I'm going to ask you again. Are you okay?" He didn't like this Tifa. It was disheartening to see one of the happiest people he knew to be in such a quickening stagnant and depressive state.

"N- Yes, I'm okay." She lied through her teeth, and her stubbornness was starting to make him lose his mind.

"You're going to kill me one day, Teef. I hope you know that." He earned a small genuine smile from her, and he felt one growing on his lips in return. But, her attention returned to the pictures on the glass table, and he knew that little moment between them would mean nothing. She would revert back and hurt even more.

He got up from his chair, and this did not cause a response from the lady. He pushed her chair back a bit and leaned in to plant a kiss on her lips. He immediately received a loud slap on the side of his cheek, and he retreated with a great smile. "Welcome back, Tifa Lockhart!"

She rolled her eyes in annoyance and felt slightly guilty at the sight of her red hand print marking itself on his pale cheek. She knew she didn't have normal human strength, especially one of weak girls.

"I seriously don't think that we should continue though." He returned back to his seat, folder tightly gripped in his hand.

"Trust me, Reno. I just want to get this whole thing over with. I need to know my limits, weaknesses, and strengths." Her eyes shone with fortitude, and he couldn't help but succumb.

He stared inquisitively for a few seconds. "Whatever you say, but don't say I didn't warn you." He opened his folder once more, deciding who and what to ask of next. Thumbing through the pages, he decided to pick something easy to work on, lessening the burden on her mind. "Hmmm, let's work on you."

She merely shrugged in indifference. She would do anything as long as it coincided with her plan.

"Nibelheim."

"Home."

"Childhood."

"Morbid."

"Parents."

"Dead."

He thought it would have been a better idea; but it was getting worse and worse as the questioning got on, though all of this was stalling the inevitable. He couldn't blame her though, she was 'The Cursed Child,' and it had caused her to live a terrible life. There was no helping her.

He took a large breath and messily tossed and dropped all the pictures onto the table.

There were random assortments of men, women, and group alliances that some if not all were part of. All of them were taken with precision and stealth: showcasing face profiles, questionable scenes of murders and intimacy, and anything else that would be invasive of a person's life.

There was an impressive list and amount of people that had affected her one way or the other, and they were all in this pile. He couldn't count or measure the impact or amount with all of his fingers and toes.

However, he noticed she had eyes on only one picture, and he understood why.

"Who are you looking at?" he asked knowingly.

He did not receive an audible answer.

She pointed at the smallest picture, and he had no idea how she had found it in the first place. It was the picture of a woman with skin and hair as white as snow and eyes the color of blood.

"Jenova."

"...Evil."

x

**Too busy outlining this story to forget. Disappointed at the lack of feedback but happy at the new followers! Reti friendship is too cute and dynamic to ignore. Sorry, if I stretched Reno's character too far or made him OOC, but I think I got a good mix and variety of his personality. Tifa officially makes an appearance also! Hopefully, I answered some questions and added new ones. It's gonna take a while until the full plot begins unless you count the next chapter the end of exposition.**

**If you can't wait for the Cloti in this story yet (& it's going to take a while until they meet), check out "purple," which was released last week. It's a short in game drabble.**

**Anyway, remember to follow and, most importantly, review! It helps raises an author's self esteem, plot bunnies, and determination. **

**Happy reading and until next time, loves.**


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